The inside scoop from J. Alexander, a judge on the show and author of Follow the Model: Miss J’s Guide to Unleashing Presence, Poise, and Power.
I first met Tyra Banks backstage at a show. We said our casual hellos and then started seeing each other at different runway presentations. She was living in Paris and we soon became close friends, but she never really liked living in Paris (maybe she’ll tell you about that in her memoirs one day). After she moved back to America we stayed in touch over the phone and we’d have hour-long conversations, catching up on all the Parisian fashion gossip. But I never in a million years dreamed that we would end up working together the way we do now.
I was the first person that Tyra approached about being on America’s Next Top Model. Well, actually she wasn’t the first person to talk to me about appearing on America’s Next Top Model. It was her mother. I was still working for Lars at Bill Blass at the time, and we had just finished a show. I remotely checked my answering machine in Paris, and there was a call from Tyra’s mother that said, “Hi, J., this is Momma Carolyn calling. How are things, how are you? Listen, Tyra’s developing a show, I think you’ll be perfect for it, so call us back and let us know who we talk to in order to get you on it.” They had no idea I was working in New York at the time, so I called her back. The conversation went as follows:
“Hey, Momma. What’s going on, girl?”
“J. Alexander, I’m so glad you called me back.”
I could hear Tyra in the background going, “Hi, J.!”
I said, “What’s going on?”
Her mother handed the phone to Tyra, who was so excited as she explained the show’s concept to me. She was going to approach the networks with the idea of a reality show where every week a girl is kicked off after trying to complete modeling tasks like the ones Tyra had gone through during her career, things like having to wear bathing suits in freezing cold weather and modeling winter coats in the Sahara desert. But she wanted to teach them real technical skills, too, and that was where I came in, as the show’s runway coach.
“When are you going to be in New York?” she asked.
She was thrilled to learn that I was already in New York, so I just walked up to her hotel at Sixty-third Street and Madison. We sat down and we talked out all the different show concepts, and that was it. I wanted in; it sounded fun. About a week later I ended up on a conference call with the producers. I can’t stand being on conference calls. I’m always afraid that I’ll be on speakerphone and not know who’s in the room, and accidentally say something that might hurt that person’s feelings. Whenever I have to be on a conference call I warn people up front about that and tell them that they are responsible for any wounded egos, not me.
I explained to everyone on the call how I usually work with girls, that it’s no more than four girls at a time for a two-hour class. I knew nothing about television, but I’d been doing coaching for such a long time at that point that I figured I’d just do my thing. You got what you got with me, and then we were done. Sort of like the best one-night stand of your life. Turns out that was so not the case.
The very first episode I shot was in Brooklyn and I brought all my props, like different types of clothes and accessories to model. They started filming and I immediately hated it. I was still operating under the assumption that shooting a television reality show was like shooting a documentary, so I just did what I normally do — which is teach. But the producer kept saying, “Stop, wait, let’s try it this way.” Or, “Cut, let’s do a different take.” There were moments when I would be talking to the girls, trying to get them to rest because they were exhausted or trying to get to know them a little better so I could see where I could push them and what their different strengths and weaknesses were. But the producer didn’t want me to do any of that and he was constantly telling me to stop what I was doing and saying, “Just do it this way; this is what I need.”
I finally got fed up and stormed off the set, telling them that was not how I worked. In retrospect, it’s hilarious. I was so inexperienced in the ways of television. I was in the midst of getting my reality TV cherry popped. I was demanding to work as if it was a normal two-hour class — coaching the models, taking breaks, making sure they were resting their feet, joking with them, as if the producers possibly had time for all of that. Boy, was I off target.
My other big issue initially was that I had a real problem with writers from the show trying to write lines for me. On that first cycle I was asked to say things like “This girl is here because of such-and-such and it’s fiiiieeeerce!” (Damn. Does it count if I use the F?word if I’m quoting someone else?) It was so obvious to me that there was some heterosexual man stuck in a writing room trying to write the way he thought gay men in the fashion world talked. I had the same problem when I worked for E!’s Fashion Police. They’d want me to say things like “Oooh, child, girl! Nuh-uh, honey child! Oooh, that’s faaaaabulous.” Let me make this perfectly clear. I. AM. NOT. THAT. GIRL. Caroline Pedrix, one of my former modeling bookers and a dear friend, used to tell clients, “Trust me, you’ll get your money’s worth. With J. Alexander, what you see is what you get and a whole lot more. Fo’ sho.” I understand how it’s easy to fit me into a box or a category of person, but watch me on television a little bit closer next time. I’m actually rather reserved, and my delivery is usually quite deadpan.
The producers finally got what they needed from me after shooting the first cycle, but I vowed that I would never do that again. Then seven months later I got a phone call that they wanted me to come back. I’d already told my television agent, Alex Schwab, that I’d stick needles in my eyes before that happened because I felt that what they were doing wasn’t high fashion. And when I told that to the producers as they were trying to get me back, they said, “You’re exactly right, big man, it’s television.” It was like a little lightbulb went off in my head. I just got it. Well, that and a substantial raise. None of us involved ever thought the show would have the staying power that it does. We figured maybe four cycles at the absolute most. At the time I’m writing this, I’m about to start shooting cycle thirteen.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. Alexander, the author of Follow the Model: Miss J’s Guide to Unleashing Presence, Poise, and Power (Copyright © 2009 by Alexander Jenkins), has traveled around the world casting and coaching models for countless top designers. Now he is a television personality well-known for his work as a runway coach and judge on America’s Next Top Model.
MORE ARTICLES BY THE AUTHOR
LEARN MORE
- Read Chapter 1 of Follow the Model: Miss J’s Guide to Unleashing Presence, Poise, and Power
- Watch a video with the author and find out how he got his nickname, how he went from accountant to runway coach, and more
